


Seeing Blue

by glacis



Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-26
Updated: 2010-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Dawson and Pacey hadn't jumped back onto the geezer's boat?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Blue

Seeing Blue, a Dawson/Pacey shipwreck by Sue Castle. Rated NC17, no copyright infringement intended.

 _What if they hadn't jumped back on the old geezer's boat?_

"I'm not leaving my boat!" Pacey's roar could barely be heard over the howl of the hurricane force winds.

Dawson bit back the curse he wanted to scream and yelled, instead, "I'm not leaving you here!" Then he did the single stupidest, or perhaps bravest, thing he'd ever done in his life.

He jumped on to Pacey's boat.

Fortunately, Pacey was bigger than he was and had good instincts. He caught Dawson before his momentum could carry him into the ocean and get him drowned.

Unfortunately, Pacey'd already been a complete moron and unleashed the two boats. The force of Dawson's landing on the deck of the boat coincided with a wave half the size of New England, and the sailboat was tossed far apart from the rescue boat. Dawson heard a thin wail, Joey's voice pleading, first Pacey's name, then his own, then nothing but the wind and the lightning and the waves.

Pacey was still holding on to him. He looked up in time to see a gust of wind crack the post at the top of the mainsail, and knew without a doubt that they were going to die.

He didn't want to die like this. They had too much left unresolved between them. Betrayal, history, years of friendship ... he peeled his head away from Pacey's chest and reared back just far enough to peer down into his ex-best friend's face.

It was pale. Dark blue eyes winced against the lashing rain, short crewcut hair black in the fluctuating light. He was saying something, but Dawson couldn't make out the words. There was a terrific flash of lightning, and he instinctively huddled closer. It made it easier to hear, once his ears stopped ringing and he could hear anything again.

"-- should have stayed on the boat. Taken Jen in, you didn't have to do this, God, Dawson, you're crazy. You could get killed --"

All about Dawson, nothing about himself. Didn't he realize? Was he too thick or just too oblivious? Didn't he know how important he was?

"I love you!" he yelled in Pacey's face. It stopped the flow of words almost as abruptly as it stopped Dawson's own brain. He really hadn't meant to say that.

"You're out of your mind!" Pacey yelled back, but he didn't look angry, or even really surprised. Just sort of dazed.

Dawson heard another crack, and felt the boat list alarmingly beneath them. The knowledge that they were going to die intensified. He craned his neck over his shoulder but couldn't see the old geezer's boat anymore. He sent up a prayer that Joey and Jen would get back to the dock safe and sound, and threw what was left of his caution to the winds. With another little prayer that Pacey couldn't hear him, he confessed the things he'd been wanting to confess since last spring when all their lives had exploded and he'd started to live a nightmare. And a lie.

"Joey's my soul mate, yeah, I can say that, but she's more of a sister than anything else, and I never really knew that until I figured out that it wasn't you I was jealous of, having her, but her, for having you. I can't ever seem to figure out what I want until somebody else has it. You're not my ex-best friend, you're the other half of me, and there's a hole in my heart where you used to fit that nothing else can fill. She was right about that, but she didn't know what that hole really meant, what you really mean, and she never will, because we're going to die out here, and no one is ever going to know what could have happened, what we could have been, because we're never going to get the chance to see what the future might have held. Because it's all over, and it's not Joey I want, it hasn't been since the first time I saw you kiss her. It's you, and I'm never going to have either one of you now, and that's been killing me, and that's the worst betrayal of all, a betrayal I've brought on myself, for being too blind to see what I needed until it was too late."

"You _are_ nuts," Pacey growled in his ear, and Dawson shivered.

The wind had dropped, not for long, just for an instant, and it was all it had taken for Pacey to hear way too much. Dawson squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, well, he was dead anyway, he might as well go for broke, he thought, just as the mast shattered. He stretched up, grabbed the back of Pacey's neck with both hands, and kissed him as hard as he could.

Pacey tasted like salt and life. His lips were cold, but his tongue was warm against Dawson's, and he wasn't trying to get away, or yell, or bite him. He broke the kiss and dragged in a breath, staring down at Pacey, who was staring back up at him like he'd grown another head. He was leaning over to kiss him again when the mast blew past them, tangling them in tackle and debris. Something hard hit him on the back of the head, and the wind and the waves and the boat and Pacey and everything in the world disappeared in a flash of red and black.

 

Nothing had gone right all day. By the time Dawson kissed him, Pacey knew he'd slipped into some strange alternate plane of existence where reality was twisted out of shape and fantasy became nightmare became reality became fantasy again.

Sounded a lot like his life, lately.

He hadn't lied to Jen when he said he had a regret. He missed Dawson, missed their time together, missed their friendship. The summer with Joey had been wonderful, but it hadn't been enough. It _had_ been enough to convince him that there was something missing, and the only thing he could think it might be was Dawson.

Then Joey'd had to study. With Dawson. And he'd tried to escape his own thoughts, out on the water, which usually worked, only it hadn't this time. A hurricane had hit. He'd known Dawson would come for him. Deep-down gut instinct had told him so. But when the time had come to make the decision, he couldn't do it. Couldn't leave his boat and all the good things it meant to him, couldn't throw it away as he'd thrown so much away in the past year.

Then Dawson had lost his mind and jumped over to join him.

Pacey'd ended up with a double armful of his ex-best friend, a girlfriend screaming said ex-best friend's name, along with his own, in equal measures of fear and dismay, and a boat that was bucking like a wild animal and trying to turn cart wheels.

He really wished he hadn't loosened the tow-lines.

Just when reality couldn't get any more surreal, Dawson proved his insanity ran deeper than expected, and started telling Pacey that he loved him. It was difficult to hear over the wind, and he'd concentrated hard, aided by a sudden pocket of relative quiet in the storm, only to lie in utter shock as he discovered facts about Dawson that shook his world view a hundred and eighty degrees.

Only to lose even that much perspective when Dawson kissed him.

He loved Joey. He really did. And she turned him on. Really, she did.

But he'd never gotten harder faster in his life than when Dawson Leery stuck his tongue down his throat. In the middle of a hurricane. Convinced they were going to die.

If they were going to die, he suddenly couldn't think of a better way to go.

A flash of light and the sudden impact of wind rushing by was the only warning he had as the mast cracked into pieces and swept past them. A stray chunk of wood and tackle caught Dawson across the back of the head and he went limp in Pacey's arms.

"Dawson!" Pacey screamed, fighting the constraints of rope and deadweight to check his injuries. Then the boat lost its battle to stay upright and he, Dawson, and the True Love flipped into the raging ocean with a resounding splash.

Fighting not to drink half the Atlantic, fighting even harder to not lose hold of Dawson, Pacey barely felt the rope burns on numb hands as he lashed them both to the biggest piece of flotsam he could reach. Joey and Jen were close. It wouldn't take long.

Until the girls got to them, he'd do what he did best. Hang on. Survive. Make damned sure Dawson survived with him. He wrapped both arms around Dawson and held his face up against his own, keeping his mouth and nose free of water. Keeping them alive. Trying not to think about how good it felt, even as his body gradually went numb.

Thankfully, it wasn't very long before he saw the bulk of the geezer's boat. He kicked with the last of his strength, timing his efforts with the waves, letting the storm work for instead of against them. The rest of the trip was a blur : thumping against the side of the hull; lifting Dawson up so Jen and Joey could pull him in; huddling with Dawson leaning groggily against him as they steered their careful way back into port. The only clear memory of the entire trip was Dawson's pain-filled blue eyes staring at him, water running down his face, then turning away as Joey came up to Pacey and kissed him.

The return to the dock was anticlimactic. Dawson's parents swept him up and took him to the hospital to see to his head injury. Jen's grandmother chewed a hole in the geezer's butt for trying to get Pacey to pay for the damage his boat had taken in the rescue. Joey read Pacey the riot act. He took her home. Kissed her goodnight and went home himself.

Dreamed about blue eyes and holding tight.

Not Joey.

It was late Saturday morning before he had time and felt together enough to make the trip to Joey's. The rest of the school week had been weird, strained and tense, and he needed to see her someplace private. Or as private as they could get. Unfortunately, the one thing on his mind -- diving into her and forgetting Dawson -- was the furthest thing from the one thing on her mind -- getting him and Dawson to resume their friendship.

"Have you thought about what I said?" She wouldn't leave it alone. "Are you going to talk to him?"

"I will. Later. Right now, I just need some time for us." He wound his fingers in her hair and tugged her gently toward him. She was sweet tasting and soft under his mouth, and he closed his eyes and thought about how very much he loved her.

Only to find that what he was really hungry for was the taste of salt and regret.

She made a muffled sound of protest and he broke away, realizing that he'd been holding her much too tightly, pulling at her hair. Joey gave him a confused look as he untangled his hands as quickly as he could and scooted away from her.

"Damn," was all he could think of to say. Then, "I'm sorry," as he was turning and walking away as fast as he could without breaking into a run. He heard her call his name, but it faded behind him as he made tracks down the street.

Pacey had no way to explain the unexplainable. It wouldn't do any good anyway. The only thing he could do was figure out where he went from here, and go there, causing the least amount of pain possible to everyone else in the process.

He had no idea who, if anyone, would be going with him.

 

Joey lifted her hand to her mouth, feeling the bruise starting to form on her lower lip, wondering what on earth had gotten into Pacey. He'd been acting strangely for weeks, really, ever since his friendship with Dawson had disintegrated, which was one of the reasons she'd been pushing so hard for them to make up.

That, and Dawson had been so close to her for so long, and still was, that it hurt to see him hurting. It was hurting Pacey, too, whether he'd admit it or not.

Part of her wanted to follow Pacey, make him stop and talk to her, make them clear the air and set things straight. The much larger, more pragmatic part of her knew it wouldn't do any good. Pacey would talk when he would talk : her prodding would do nothing but make him clam up tighter than, well, an actual clam. She wandered into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee, wandering back out on to the porch to sit on the step and take her time drinking it. She had work to do, and homework to do, and all the usual pressures of life waiting for her, but she couldn't seem to get herself worked up about any of them. All she could think about was Pacey and Dawson.

"Hey," a soft voice broke into her troubled thoughts. She looked up into the bright blue eyes of her best friend.

"Dawson," she greeted him. "How's the head?"

He shrugged, hair falling forward into his face as his head dropped. "It's fine. Slight concussion, so they kept me over night. How'd the debate go with you and Drew on your own?"

She grinned at him. "I wiped the floor with him."

"Guess he should have been thinking about Verona instead of his girlfriends when we were doing all the work, huh?" He grinned back, but it looked forced.

"Yeah." She sobered, staring intently up at him. "I was just thinking about you. And Pacey."

"Funny you should say that," he surprised her by answering. She'd expected him to get angry and start talking about betrayal again. Instead, he just looked nervous. "Is he around? I ... need to talk to him."

She set her cup down carefully on the step beside her and wrapped her arms around her knees, upping the intensity of her stare a notch. He fidgeted and wouldn't meet her eyes. "Why?" she asked bluntly.

"We just need to talk," he repeated. "Is he here?"

"No," she answered slowly. "He went home, I think."

"Thanks," he told her softly. "See you later."

Then he was gone. She watched him leave in disbelief. It couldn't be that easy. Not after so many months of angst. It couldn't just take one storm and one near-death experience to get them back together.

Determined to find out what the heck was going on, she left her rapidly cooling coffee on the porch and followed Dawson to Pacey's. She wouldn't interfere. She wouldn't even let them know she was there. But she had to know that everything was going to be okay. She had come between them. She had to be sure that what she'd knocked off course could be put right.

Hiding down the road from the beach house, she couldn't hear what was being said, but she could read body language very well. Pacey didn't look angry when he opened the door to Dawson's knock. If anything, he looked cautiously friendly. Not relaxed, exactly, but receptive in a wary sort of way. He said something, Dawson shook his head, then Pacey stepped back and waved his hand in an ironic little bow. Dawson pushed his hands into his back pockets and walked into the hall. He brushed his shoulder against Pacey's chest as he walked past. Joey stepped forward, careful to keep out of sight.

She didn't like the look on Pacey's face. She couldn't read it. Any time Pacey got that stone-faced mask on, anything could happen, and usually did. Last time, it had nearly caused them to break up.

Not wanting to admit even to herself that she didn't trust her boyfriend to not beat up her best friend, she launched herself across the street and let herself in with the key Pacey'd given her. She made as little noise as possible, not wanting to interfere unless she had to. They had to work it out between them.

She just wanted to make sure they'd make up without killing each other in the process.

Silently, she crept along the hall until she stood outside Pacey's bedroom door. It was opened a crack and she could hear them talking inside. Holding her breath, she leaned forward and listened.

"I just want to know what you meant by it, that's all." Pacey didn't sound mad. Confused, and irritated, and something else she couldn't put her finger on, but not like he was going to take a swing at anybody.

"I thought we were going to die." Dawson sounded strangled.

"That was pretty obvious, or you never would have done it."

Done what? She leaned even closer, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening without giving herself away.

"Not true." Dawson was sounding a little more confident.

"Oh, no?" Pacey at his sardonic best.

"No."

She heard movement, then a muffled exclamation, then ... wet sounds. She stared at the door. Wet sounds?

"God, Dawson." Now it was Pacey who sounded strangled.

The wet sounds got louder, and somebody moaned. She blinked. There was the sound of material rustling, and what could only be a zipper.

"Please, Pacey." Dawson was breathless. Her eyes widened until they hurt.

No way on earth. She put her hand out and silently pushed the door wide enough that she could see what was going on in Pacey's bedroom.

Her hand froze, wrapped around the edge of the door. Her breath caught in her throat. Neither one of them heard. Neither noticed. They were much too busy with one another.

Pacey's hands were buried in Dawson's hair. His mouth was working against Dawson's, who was kissing him back as hungrily as he was being kissed. She recognized that desperation; she'd felt it just that morning when Pacey had kissed her, then left.

Now she knew why he'd left. He'd been kissing the wrong person.

She knew she should back away, knew that she had no business seeing what she was watching. They had no business doing what they were doing, but she certainly had no business witnessing it. The stray thought crossed her mind to wonder if they'd ever done this before, but she shrugged it off as unimportant. What was important was that they were doing it now.

And they were doing it like they'd been wanting to do it their whole lives and had to do it now or die.

Dawson pushed Pacey back a step and she tensed, prepared to run for the front door if they noticed her. She didn't have to move. Pacey tumbled back onto the bed and pulled Dawson with him. They were kissing again, and stripping each other, hands catching in one another's clothing as they tugged and ripped and tossed clothes everywhere. Pacey's shorts were caught around his ankles and Dawson's jeans were dangling off one foot. Pacey's shirt was hanging open, buttons falling off where Dawson had torn it, and Dawson's shirt was tossed halfway across the room. Pacey's hands were running over Dawson's chest and down his hips and Dawson was biting and kissing Pacey's neck and collar bone.

They looked like they were starving. For one another. Pacey'd never kissed her like that. Neither had Dawson.

When Dawson spread his thighs and hooked one ankle around Pacey's hips, she knew it really was time for her to go. But her feet were glued to the floor. Her hand was stuck to the door. She couldn't breathe, much less move, and the only thing that could have shifted her would've been a nuclear bomb going off. Or either one of them noticing that she was standing there.

They didn't. They were too caught up in one another.

She could see Pacey's hand moving down between their bodies, and Dawson's head pushing back against the pillow. Then both Dawson's hands were clutching at Pacey's ass, and they were moving together, and she didn't need to be able to see to know what they were doing. She'd felt it, from each in turn. Only not with the intensity of need they were showing with one another.

All she could hear was the slide of their bodies against each other, the harsh pants and soft groans that were drowning out her own lighter breathing. Then Pacey muttered, "Dawson!" and leaned down to kiss him again. Dawson moaned into Pacey's mouth, muffled but clear enough for her to decipher.

She knew an 'I love you' when she heard one.

She also knew an orgasm, or in this case two, when she saw them. They writhed together, Dawson's hands running up and down Pacey's back, Pacey's face buried against Dawson's throat. In that instant, Dawson's eyes, which had been tightly closed, opened and looked directly into hers.

Joey had never seen anything bluer than the blue of his eyes as he looked at, and through, her. They were blind to her, blind to anything in the world but Pacey, no matter that it was she he was looking at. They broke her paralysis, unglued her feet, and set her free to escape.

All of it.

Both of them.

Walking slowly back toward her house, she wondered when the world had tilted, and what she was supposed to do now. In the past six months she'd rearranged her entire life, and fought as hard as she could to keep both Pacey and Dawson. Now, in a strange way, she had them both. And had lost them both.

Absently picking up her cup and taking it with her into the house, she stopped in the kitchen and stared blindly out the window. She thought back to everything she had been through with Dawson, with Pacey. How sometimes wishes were granted, if not exactly the way one expected or hoped. What price love? she wondered. Friendship, a little voice whispered back. What price friendship?

Love.

The sky through the window blurred as her eyes filled with tears, and the blue of the sky turned to the blue of her best friend's eyes, then blended to the deeper hue of her ex-boyfriend's eyes. She'd never seen bluer.

She didn't think she ever would.

 

_end_

 


End file.
